


the november game

by orchid_spiral



Series: the machine turns [4]
Category: WWE NXT - Fandom
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Fairies, LOTS of violence, Mindfuck, Multi, Multiple Personalities, Shapeshifters - Freeform, Violent Sex, depictions of death and violence, really weird dreams, sort of fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:52:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5351351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchid_spiral/pseuds/orchid_spiral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Truth and freedom always were illusory concepts, especially when you can't trust your own mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the november game

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone. Have the monstrosity I've been working on for goddamn ages. Sorry to everyone who was wondering if it'd relate to the events of the sound of his wings- it doesn't, though I'm happy to answer any and all questions you've got at my tumblr (link's in my profile). As for this fic, it stemmed from my thoughts about how Finn's been handled so far. Suffice to say, my version's a hell of a lot weirder. This is set sometime in the winter of 2014/15. The title is a reference to Ray Bradbury's story 'The October Game'. Thank you so much for reading.

If there’s anything worse than self-flagellation, Finn thinks, it’s _necessary_ self-flagellation.

It’s midnight, and it’s fucking freezing. Not as cold as home- he’s in Florida, for fuck’s sake, there’s no way it could get as cold as home- but really fucking cold all the same.  
  
Of course, that could have something to do with the fact that he’s currently sitting on a rooftop in the middle of winter, clad only in a thin t-shirt and shorts.  
  
As much as he’d like to put it down to the freezing wind (which is blowing hard enough to make him grip the icy tiles a little harder), he knows that in the end, this is basically his fault.  
  
But of course, it’s necessary. Damn it.  
  
He’s not at the roof garden, of course. Too risky. Instead, he took a little trip to a spot a few suburbs away, a nice house in a nice street where no one’s going to look up.  
  
Even without shoes, he managed it easily, drawing on the demon’s strength and resilience so he could leap across streets and onto frozen tiles with minimum risk. It’s all part of the plan: the demon has been annoying him, and the demon hates the cold, and so Finn has been drawing on its strength and resistance until it’s too exhausted to bother him any more tonight.  
  
Not quickly enough, though.  
  
He can hear it in the back of his head, a mumbling that’s either gibberish or a language that can only be spoken by creatures with multiple mouths and tongues, or possibly both.  
  
Well. What it is doesn’t matter: he understands it perfectly.  
  
Today’s intended victim is Carmella, and the demon is savouring the idea because it knows it’s the closest it’ll get to the real thing. But that hasn’t stopped it from flooding Finn’s mind with the same images over and over: the demon’s hand tracing the leopard print pattern she loves on her skin in her blood, her head lying a foot away from her body, her eyes staring at the ceiling, open but unseeing.  
  
Finn’s seen it all before, though.  
  
The demon’s been doing it since they were old enough to know they were two and not the same, forever fighting for supremacy over their body. When they were young, they were a confused blend, unable to comprehend that they weren’t one being. Puberty came with a long, vicious war, one that ended only when Finn tore himself away, kicked the demon down and let it know exactly how things were going to go from then on.

It serves him, and not the other way around. _Never_ the other way around.  
  
But it’s angry and resentful, years of subservience making it pissed off and sullen. It’s hijacked his senses again, playing Carmella’s screams in his ears, her blood in his nose, her bones between his teeth, her body under his hands.  
  
Finn tunes it out, raises his face to the wind and lets its cold wear the hallucinations away, feeling his body slowly grow numb.

 

  
It takes a while until the demon’s reached the right level of tiredness: exhausted enough to drop the hallucinations, but not so exhausted that it has nothing left for him to use. Finn still needs enough of its strength to get home, or things will get… _awkward_ , to say the least.  
  
At least it doesn’t take long- five minutes at the most- before he’s making that last jump over the railing and into the roof garden.  
  
It’s almost like flying, really, and he loves it: those long, almost eternal moments when there’s nothing beneath him except empty air, the wind rushing past him, the world almost moving in slow motion.  
  
That being said, he still can’t aim for shit.

At least he doesn’t land in the rose bush like last time. That _sucked,_ to say the least. He was picking thorns out of his skin for what felt like _weeks._  
  
Instead, he crashes into one of the picnic tables, sending it skidding across the roof until the table hits the railing with a clash that sounds like someone dropped an anvil on an out-of-tune piano.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
It takes a second for the pain to hit him, but when it does, it’s all he can do to not scream. He desperately grabs at the demon’s leftover power, forcing it to heal their body, but he holds enough back to fix things. He’s gonna need it.  
  
Once he hauls himself off the table, he looks at the results and groans. There’s less damage than he thought- looks like it mostly hurt him, thankfully. He can heal; he can’t fix a broken table or explain it away. A couple of the railing bars are bent outwards, but he pulls them back to their proper positions easily enough. After that, all he has to do is haul the table back to its proper position and do his best to get the marks off the path.  
  
Of course, there’s one more complication: the noise means that someone will almost certainly come to see what happened. The roof cameras are mysteriously malfunctioning again, so there’s no record of Finn coming or going, but if he gets caught…  
  
He finds his hiding spot after a few seconds of looking, and gets to it just before the door creaks open.  
  
He can’t see from his position, but that doesn’t matter. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, and smells-  
  
- _hair spray, deodorant, cologne, expensive products, real leather pants, and the smugness, that condescension, it’s-_  
  
-the unmistakeable scents that could only be from Tyler Breeze.  
  
Finn’s expecting him to storm onto the roof, angry that his sleep has been disturbed, but instead he hears Tyler walk slowly across the roof, probably looking around carefully.  
  
Having crawled under the rose bushes, Finn’s tense as a taut wire, forcing himself to take shallow breaths and stay calm. One wrong move and he’ll probably not only blow his cover, he’ll end up full of more fucking rose thorns.  
  
“What the hell?” he hears Tyler say, confused. He paces some more, and then calls out a little louder, “Is there someone here?”  
  
Finn seriously considers calling out “No!” just for Tyler’s reaction, but he manages to restrain himself.  
  
Tyler mutters something to himself, walks around a bit and then finally leaves, shutting the door behind him with a _clunk._  
  
And that’s the tricky part, Finn knows: Tyler could well have pretended to leave and instead is waiting for him to emerge. Of course, this is _Tyler Breeze_ he’s talking about, so it’s not likely. But for all he knows, there’s someone else waiting.  
  
So Finn waits, staying as relaxed as he can, pulling the rest of the demon’s strength into himself until it’s completely exhausted and he can’t hear anything in his head except himself.  
  
It’s a relief, to say the least.  
  
A while later, he slowly emerges from under the rose bush, taking care with every movement until he’s home free.  
  
A second later, an owl hoots loudly, and Finn jumps so high he clears the rose bush, biting down on his lip to stop himself from exclaiming.  
  
The stab of pain informs him that he’s bitten too deep and he mutters a curse through the blood in his mouth, wincing.  
  
Still, it could be worse. At least he’ll heal quickly.  
  
There’s nobody around, and he slips inside as quietly as he can manage, moving as slowly as he can. Every sound is magnified in the silence, and the sound of his heartbeat hammers in his ears.  
  
He cracks the door open slowly, not wanting to risk the hinges screeching. Once it’s open enough to admit him, he slides in and slowly closes the door after him.  
  
Then he stands still in the darkness, taking deep breaths and listening for any sound.  
  
He can’t hear anyone’s pulse or smell their blood racing, but there’s a few people he’s… suspicious of, to say the least. He can’t prove anything and he doesn’t have enough to confront anyone, but he’ll damn well keep a close eye on them.  
  
He walks slowly and carefully down the stairs, listening as hard as he can. On the one hand, being up late is hardly a crime, but on the other hand, if anyone found out, there’d be more than a few people rather curious to know why he was on the roof at midnight in warm-weather gear.  
  
So in the end, it’s something of a relief when he finally slips through his front door and locks it behind him, to say the least.  
  
Then he instantly starts searching, looking for any sign that someone’s in his apartment, but there’s nothing. Well. Nothing that he can see, anyway.  
  
Paranoid? Maybe. But he’s seen too many movies where someone evades pursuit, arrives home safely, and starts relaxing, only to find that there was someone inside the whole time, to just assume that he’s safe.  
  
He goes back to the front door and starts searching again, this time looking for a sign that someone broke in and anything that they left behind, but again, he finds nothing. Once he’s satisfied, he finally relaxes, flopping down on his bed with the grace of a sack of potatoes.  
  
He barely remembers to turn the light out, but once he does, sleep wraps itself around him like a boa constrictor.

And he dreams.

 

  

_The floor feels icy cold against his skin, but he isn’t sure whether it’s the temperature or some quirk of the setting. Nothing is ever as it seems in Her hall, and he shuts his eyes tight to keep the delusions out- though he can still hear them as they slide into his mind._

_The sound of someone walking toward him hits his ears, but he doesn’t dare look up. That could be fatal._

_There’s a pause, and then something slides under his chin and forces his head up. Despite that, he keeps his eyes closed, uncertain of what he’ll see if he opens them._

_“Little pet,” a voice like an autumn breeze says, “your queen calls.”_

_Finn swallows, and opens his eyes._

_Her eyes are like a clear sky, Her hair like strands of gold, Her lips like iris petals. She looks at him like She can’t decide whether to devour him or embrace him, and he shivers in anticipation- but of which, he can’t say._

_Her hand touches the side of his head gently and he shivers, letting out a little whimper as She begins to pet him._

_“Good pet,” She breathes. “Good boy.”_

_He trembles, waiting for whatever She has in store for him, wanting to exalt at Her calling him a good pet. He feels something touch his neck and recoils for a second, only for the collar to close a second later with a final_ click _. He feels the leash as it’s clipped onto the collar, and She tugs on it playfully, pulling him closer._

_Her lips brush against his cheek and move to his ear, and it’s like someone’s touching his face with liquid nitrogen. “You’ve done me proud,” She whispers. “Good pet. You follow my orders to the letter, you respect my people, you do everything I ask. I have a reward for you… and one last task.”_

_He manages a single nod, almost overcome by Her sheer presence._

_“Say my name,” She commands._

_He blinks, confused. What? He can’t do that. He just… just can’t. He’s not allowed, not worthy of Her._

_“My queen-”_

_“Say. My. Name.”_

_Finn swallows and whispers Her name, the name of the great queen, ruler of all She sees, the-_

_“No, little pet,” She whispers. Pain explodes in his ear, and though it smothers his mind like he’s fallen into quicksand, he manages to realise that She’s stuck one of Her nails through his earlobe. “My_ other _name. The one from when we were just silly little mortals playing at fighting. You remember.”_

_He nods. He remembers._

_Her hand slides under his head and tilts it up toward Her. For a second, Her eyes are staring into his, and then She kisses him, Her frozen blue lips pressed tightly against his, sending pleasure through his body until he’s screaming, praying for it to stop, feeling every bit of it like a knife on raw nerves._

_“Say my name, pet,” She whispers._

_“Alexa,” he mutters._

_She shivers, Her eyes closing, and smiles. “Again. Louder.”_

_“Alexa,” he repeats, managing a little more volume._

_He distinctly hears Her gasp with pleasure, and then She puts a finger to the wound in his ear, and the pain just… stops._

_“Very good, little pet,” She breathes. “And now, your reward.”_

 

  
  
The demon gets its revenge before Finn wakes up the next morning: he awakens feeling so stiff he can barely sit up. It takes him nearly half an hour before he’s managed to unfuck himself, and even then he’s still sore- though it’s a welcome distraction to the crazy fucking dream he had.  
  
“Subtle as a fucking hammer, aren’t you?” he mutters to himself as he walks downstairs after breakfast. “And what was with that dream?”  
  
The demon chuckles in the back of his mind, and Finn resists the urge to tell it to get fucked. After all, talking to himself in public never ends well.  
  
Then again, given how people normally comport themselves in the building, it’s entirely possible that nobody would notice. Or care.  
  
At least the rest of the day passes fairly normally. Well. As normal as it can get in Bizarro Land. Finn counts three fights with no real cause, four random make outs and one near death, but that was just from an accidental fall down some stairs. The trend continues- he doesn’t have to go to any extremes for the rest of the week. The demon grumbles and mutters in the back of his head, but it doesn’t do anything… which is in itself suspicious.  
  
Instead, it seems almost… smug. Like it knows something he doesn’t.  
  
Well, of course it does. The demon’s always had access to knowledge Finn can barely begin to comprehend. That, and Finn’s suspected for a long time that the demon can tell the future, but it’s just a guess, since it’s never actually shared any of its visions or whatever with him.

But the stuff that happens as the week drags on isn’t that unusual, compared to some of the really crazy shit that happens at the building. It’s just the little things, like Hideo staring silently at Finn in the cafeteria; and someone setting fire to a washing machine for some reason; and Hideo staring silently at Finn in the hallway; and someone rigging a bucket-of-water-on-top-of-the-door trap with a bucket full of paint that went off in the middle of the night without anyone triggering it, so nobody had a clue why there was paint everywhere in the hallway; and Hideo staring silently at Finn at the roof garden; and some idiot getting drunk and dropping a watermelon off the top of the building; and Hideo staring silently at Finn in the gym; and a shouting match in the atrium that ends in an attempted strangling over someone using someone else’s preferred treadmill without asking, and Hideo staring silently at Finn backstage…

All right, in hindsight, he dropped the ball big time on that one.  
  
Having _finally_ recognised the problem, he decides to ask Hideo what’s going on, and with his plan in mind, that night he dreams.

 

  
  
_The hall is enormous. The ceiling is so high he can barely see it; the wall behind him is carved and painted with so many patterns they’re almost impossible to make out, blending into a blur that makes him dizzy. Below him, the floor is covered in ornate tiles that seem to shift from colour to colour even as he looks at them._  
  
_He’s standing in front of a throne._ His _throne. It’s huge, big enough for a man twice his size, built from a solid, dark wood that feels as dense as stone. There’s no decorations or additions except for some padding, but that only makes it look even more intimidating._  
  
_Footsteps sound from behind him, and he turns, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight before him._

 _God_ damn.  
  
_Ornate robe in dozens of colours. Perfect face framed by her pink hair. Those adorable fox ears on her head, and her five fox tails spread out behind her back like a fan. Yeah, he likes that, and so does the demon._  
  
_Asuka gives him an innocent smile and says nothing, but her fox ears quiver like she’s picked up on something._  
  
_Still. This is business, not pleasure. He’s got to stick to the formalities._

 _He sits down on his throne and eyes her, his face expressionless._ Lady Asuka. Welcome to my hall.

 _She bows a little, her expression still innocent, a little deferent._ Lord Bálor. Thank you for allowing me to meet you here.  
  
_The demon stirs inside him, and along his body, his veins erupt with a red light, glowing like lava against his skin._ It’s been too long, you know, _it says, and even though it’s using Finn’s mouth to talk, it still sounds like gravel._  
_  
Asuka smiles coyly, and a high-pitched voice that definitely isn’t hers emerges._ But now we meet again at last, _the voice says.  
  
_ Ah, _the demon says,_ but do we meet as enemies yet again? Or as friends? _  
  
Asuka pauses, her eyes narrowing, and Finn’s skin darkens until it’s ink-black, the orange-red of his veins standing out even more._

 _In response, she smiles, and then she… changes. Silver lines gleam on one side of her face, and it takes him a second to realise that they’re circuits. Her eyes shine with a scarlet light, and her hands… well. They’ve become six long, thin pieces of metal, the tips gleaming as red as her eyes.  
_  
I do not wish to fight you, demon, but if you insist on it, I will tear your infernal body limb from limb and send you back to whichever hell you crawled out of, _she hisses._  
  
_The demon snarls, and its voice is even lower._ Try it, bitch, and I’ll strangle you with your own fucking tails _._

 _She takes a step closer and lifts the three spikes that make her left hand up to her eyes, examining them closely._ Must it always be like this? Such needless violence, and pointless anger toward each other?  
  
_The demon laughs._ What else is there?  
  
Oh, I think you know, _the other says._ After all, you must remember how our last meeting went.  
  
Blood and death, _the demon hisses with satisfaction. Images flash through Finn’s mind, images of a city in flames, a carmine sun rising through the smoke-filled air, debris choking the roads, bodies scattered everywhere. Images of a young Japanese woman he doesn’t recognise kneeling over the corpse of a man wearing a crown, ripping the chest open, devouring the heart, staring up at him with an insane grin as the fox ears on her head flicker into visibility. Images of the demon, wearing a body he doesn’t recognise, tearing armoured men apart, destroying an enormous temple and all of its sacred objects. Images of the two standing together on a hill overlooking the shattered city, their bodies stained scarlet as they listened to the screams._ Needed blood. Necessary death.  
  
Yes, _the other hisses._ Always. So do we fight, or do we make peace?  
  
Oh, I think we can compromise, _the demon says, Finn’s body returning to normal._ I like your new body. Where’d you find it?  
  
It was hard, but it eventually turned up. Just not where I’d expected it to be, _the other says, and she too changes back._ So you think we can compromise?  
  
_Finn gets up and takes a step forward. He undoes the buttons of his shirt and throwing it aside, and he can’t tell if it’s him or the demon doing it._ I think we can, _he says._  
  
_Asuka steps forward until she’s barely a few centimetres away from him and unfastens her robe, revealing that she’s naked beneath it._ I was hoping you’d say that, _she says, and lets it fall._  
  
_Finn licks his lips, grabs her head and pulls her into a kiss that feels like liquid fire, spreading through his body and burning him from the inside. She responds with gusto, pressing herself against him and moaning softly._  
  
_Things progress swiftly after that. The demon shoves her down so she’s lying on the throne and straddles her, his eyes flashing crimson with excitement._

It’s been too long, _he says._

Shut up and get started, _she snarls._  
  
_So he does, and he dies a thousand deaths with every move he makes._

_Oceans rise. Cities fall. Mountains erupt. And he loves every second of it._

_And in the end, they’re lying in each other’s arms, his body torn by her claws and her skin blistered and burned by his touch, and they can’t help but smile._

 

  
  
  
Finn comes awake like he’s been shocked, his eyes wide, breathing rushed. “What the _fuck_ was that?”  
  
The demon chuckles in the back of its head, its tone sardonic, to say the least.  
  
Finn takes a few more breaths and rubs his eyes. “Just… just tell me something.”  
  
The demon waits, almost bored.  
  
“Was _any_ of that real? Or was that just bullshit?”  
  
_Wouldn’t you like to know,_ the demon hisses.  
  
Finn swears at it and pulls himself out of bed, determined to not let it get the better of him. But he can still feel the huge scratches left by her claws, and he keeps abruptly looking behind him, expecting to see the Asuka from his dreams and her blood-stained claws again.  
  
At least the morning is fairly normal, thank fuck. Breakfast is accomplished without anything more troubling than Tyler throwing a bowl of granola on Mojo Rawley for being annoying, but Finn decides to get out of there before a real food fight can get started.  
  
He makes it out OK, at least, but when he turns around, he sees Hideo standing there, watching him.  
  
The demon snarls in the back of Finn’s head, but he doesn’t react, and neither does Hideo. For a long moment, the two men stare at each other, and then Hideo turns and walks away.  
  
Finn takes a step forward to follow him, but the demon protests, and Finn pauses, confused. The demon didn’t sound angry, it sounded… panicked. But why would it be panicked?  
  
“The fuck is going on?” Finn mutters.  
  
_Don’t listen to him,_ the demon hisses. _He’s a liar._  
  
That… was not what he was expecting.  
  
“A liar?” Finn asks, confused. “He’s never lied to me.”  
  
_He’s poison,_ the demon snarls. _He’s dangerous._  
  
That alone is enough to convince Finn that he really needs to talk to Hideo. He has no idea what the demon’s talking about, but anything that gets that fucker upset is worth investigating.  
  
He squints along the corridor and decides against going after Hideo. Instead, he heads back upstairs to his apartment and grabs his gear. Time to work out.  
  
At least his workout is uneventful. Despite the chaos-driven nature of the building, there aren’t many superstars stupid enough to try starting a physical fight in a place full of tools that could easily become lethal weapons, and verbal fights usually get called off before they can become physical.  
  
Finn’s lifting weights when he glances over, sees Hideo watching him and pauses, thus causing him to nearly drop the weight he was in the middle of shouldering. His resulting curse draws a fair bit of attention and a couple of comments, but Hideo’s expression doesn’t change a bit.  
  
_Fine, then_ , Finn thinks. _Let’s do this now._  
  
The demon protests, snarling and screeching, but Finn ignores it. Instead, he sets the weight down and walks over to his friend, not breaking eye contact for so much as a second.  
  
For a long moment, they stand there, staring, and then Finn decides to break the ice.  
  
“ _Hideo. Something I can do for you?”_ he asks, switching to Japanese.  
  
Hideo nods once, his expression somehow even more grave. “ _Finn. We need to talk.”_

 _“You could have just asked earlier,”_ Finn points out. “ _You’ve been watching me for days.”_  
  
_“No,”_ Hideo says flatly.  
  
Finn frowns, confused. “ _What is this about?”_

Hideo sounds almost… wary. “ _I think you know that.”_  
  
Suffice to say, Finn doesn’t. “ _No. I don’t.”_  
  
Hideo stares at him for a long second and then spits out a curse. “ _Come to my apartment in twenty minutes.”_  
  
Finn nods, mystified, and Hideo practically storms off.  
  
_What are you doing, idiot? You’ll get us killed!_ the demon roars from the back of Finn’s head.  
  
“Oh, yeah, because I have so many reasons to trust you over my friend,” Finn mutters. “I mean, _he_ never tried to make me kill anyone or showed me visions of me massacring my friends. Amazing how that makes you not trust someone, isn’t it?”  
  
The demon falls silent for a second, and then it breaks out some of the most interesting swear words Finn’s heard in years.

 

  
  
  
He’s still grinning twenty minutes later, standing in front of Hideo’s door. He knocks once and the door almost instantly swings open.  
  
Hideo takes in the sight of Finn, freshly showered and dressed and grinning, and tries to slam the door shut.  
  
Finn manages to grab the door and hauls it open. “ _What, you don’t want to talk now?”_  
  
Hideo pauses for a second, grabs the collar of Finn’s shirt and pulls until their faces are on the same level. Finn has no idea what’s going on, so he just stares back until Hideo lets him go and gruffly beckons him in.  
  
Finn follows him in warily, and waits as Hideo shuts the door behind them. His apartment looks the same as always- simple, but tasteful, and it reminds Finn of Japan.  
  
_“Sit down,_ ” Hideo says bluntly. It’s an order, not an invitation, but Finn complies anyway, flopping into one of Hideo’s lounge chairs.  
  
Hideo sits down opposite Finn and stares at him for a long moment before speaking. “ _You really don’t know why I asked you here?”_  
  
Finn just shakes his head.  
  
Hideo considers it for a second and sighs. “ _You remember when I was attacked in the parking lot.”_  
  
Confused, Finn nods.  
  
“ _I am much better now,”_ Hideo says, flexing his arm and glancing down at it. “ _But while I was away I had a lot of time to think. And I eventually decided that I could not stay silent forever.”_  
  
“ _You’re that afraid of Owens?”_ Finn asks, perplexed.  
  
Hideo raises an eyebrow.  
  
“ _Owens attacked you. It’s obvious,”_ Finn says. “ _You’re afraid of what he’d do if you told everyone? Did he threaten you?”_  
  
Hideo shakes his head slowly. “ _I am not afraid of Kevin Owens,”_ he says. “ _And I never will be.”_  
  
“ _So why-”_  
  
“ _Because Owens didn’t attack me,”_ Hideo says flatly. “ _It was you, Finn.”_  
  
Finn freezes to the spot, invisible chains wrapping around him, holding him tightly. The confusion in his head is gone, replaced by an icy numbness that spreads throughout his body.  
  
“ _It was you,”_ Hideo repeated. “ _I saw you. I begged you to stop. I watched you laugh as you slammed my shoulder into the concrete. I saw something in your eyes, something that terrified me. And I still don’t know why.”_  
  
He leans forward, his eyes fixed on Finn’s. “ _Why, Finn? Why did you do it? I thought we were friends. Does the title really mean so much more to you than a friendship that goes back for years? Or were you planning to betray me all along? Are you that ruthless? Have I only known the mask you wear instead of the real you?”_  
  
Finn stays frozen to the spot for a long moment, trying desperately to understand. He knows what Hideo said, he _understands_ what Hideo said, but he can’t comprehend it. He can’t get it. There’s something in his head, like a fog, obscuring his view-  
  
_Something in his head._  
  
“What… what did you do?” he gasps.  
  
Hideo blinks, confused. “ _What?”_  
  
“What the fuck did you do?” Finn cries, eyes wide with shock.  
  
The demon’s voice is low, and clear, and almost… happy. _Not I._ We.  
  
“No, I wouldn’t, I…” Finn whispers. “I _couldn’t_.”  
  
_But you did._  
  
“No.”  
  
_Yes._  
  
_“No.”_  
  
_Oh, yes. See for yourself._  
  
There’s a sound in the back of his head like someone snapping their fingers, and Finn-  
  
- _stands in the parking lot, no one else around but him and Hideo, and he knows now, he_ knows _what he has to do. And he’s wanted to do this for such a long time._  
  
_No, he- yes-_ no _, he can’t- but yes. He can. And he will._  
  
_It’s a short argument, and the demon knows how to win. All it has to do is slide in slowly and gently, and it can steer Finn to do_ exactly _what it wants, and he’ll do it because he_ thinks _it’s his idea._

 _And hey, this time it’s even_ helping _him. It’s a good deed. Heh._

 _Finn’s on his idiotic friend before the dumb fuck even has time to look up, and it’s over in a matter of seconds. Finn’s strong enough to smash concrete with his bare hands, so it’s not like he can’t do some serious damage to the shoulder, even with such a short amount of time to do it._  
  
_The demon pulls him away and bolts down the street and around the block, where it stops. They’ll need to get back into the building by another route, but that’s no problem. All it has to do now is… oh. Oh,_ yes _. It slides into Finn’s memories and works its magic, hiding the most recent ones. Finn will wake up thinking that he just got out of the taxi, and this way the demon has a new weapon to use._  
  
_It laughs, and Finn-_  
  
-comes out of his trance, his hands gripping the armrests of Hideo’s chair so hard they’ve gone through the material.  
  
There’s another little chuckle in his head, and he can _feel_ the demon crawling into the forefront of his mind, trying to take control. Pain explodes in his head, but he refuses to let go, knowing that it’s the demon’s way of trying to force him out.  
  
In the distance, he can hear Hideo saying something, but he can’t make out the words. Instead, he manages to gasp out two words.  
  
“Hideo… _run.”  
_  
He forces his head up and sees Hideo gasp. In the mirror behind him, Finn can see that his eyes have turned scarlet, and patches of his skin turn from white to ink-black and back again in seconds, the veins glowing orange-red. Shit.

Hideo stares in amazement for a second, and then he draws himself up and starts to speak in his hesitant English. “ _No._ I will _not_ run. I _will_ help my friend. I am not afraid of you, monster. Not now. Not ever.”  
  
The demon roars in fury, trying to smash its way into control, and Finn squeezes his eyes shut and gasps for breath, sweat pouring down his face, his fingers becoming scarlet claws that reach toward Hideo until Finn pulls away, forcing himself to turn back, even though he feels as though something's trying to break his head open from the inside.  
  
“Listen to me,” he groans, barely able to get the words out. “ _Listen to me.”_  
  
He takes a deep breath and spits the words out, a few at a time. “What you did… was a mistake. You took me… by surprise… won’t happen again. Whatever you do… to me…”  
  
He forces his eyes open and spits out the final line to his reflection. “ _I won’t let you hurt my friends ever again.”_  
  
With that, he passes out.

 

  
  
_“What, you’re just gonna sit and stare all day?”_  
  
_Someone pokes his arm and Finn jumps, nearly falling from his perch. Before he can fall, a hand grabs him and pulls him back up to a sitting position, holding him tightly. Grateful, Finn grabs the branch and looks down, swearing softly._  
  
_The ground is hundreds of feet away, flat, dry brown earth stretching as far as the eye can see under a clear, pale grey sky. He’s seated in an enormous tree, the trunk and branches made of a strange purple light, tiny white dots shooting up and down the branches at random. The end of each branch has the same odd shape, but he can’t quite remember what it is._  
  
_A crow caws softly and Finn looks around, a little embarrassed. Every branch has at least one crow seated on it, and all of them are looking at him like he’s just done something colossally stupid._  
  
_Well. He did just do something colossally stupid, so they kind of have a point._  
  
_“You OK?” his rescuer asks, and Finn turns. Solomon Crowe is sitting on the branch next to him, and he seems to be at ease on the branch as the other crows._  
  
_“Fine,” Finn says. “Thanks,” he adds belatedly. “Sorry. Guess I just zoned out for a second.”_

_Solomon shrugs. “It’s nothing,” he says. “I do it all the time.”_

_“Yeah, but you wouldn’t fall,” Finn replies. He doesn’t know how he knows, but he does._

_“True,” Solomon admits. “But don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”_  
  
_Finn smiles. “Thank you.”_

_“Hey, no problem,” the other replies. “I mean, someone’s got to keep an eye on you. Who knows what you’re up to?”_

_Finn chuckles. “Yeah, it’s true. I’m always up to something.”_

_“Don’t suppose you’d consider telling me, would you?” Solomon asks._

_Finn laughs and shakes his head. “Nah.”_

_“Ah, don’t worry,” Solomon says. “I didn’t ask you here so I could find out all your secrets.”_

_“Good, because I wouldn’t tell you,” Finn says firmly, though he keeps the tone light-hearted._

_“Nah, we can compromise on that. Anyway, I asked you here…”_

 _"Why_ did _you ask me here?”_

 _“For that,” Solomon says, pointing to the horizon. “Three, two…”_  
  
_Finn stares out in the direction the other man’s pointing and gasps. The formerly grey sky explodes into colour as the sun begins to rise, greens and blues fading away to be replaced with purples and golds and reds. The crows all caw in unison, a chorus of hundreds, greeting the dawn as one._

_“Jesus,” Finn whispers._

_“Amazing, isn’t it?” Solomon asks._  
  
_Finn has no idea how long they sit there, just staring, but it’s a while until the last of the colours fade and the sky is deep blue, the sun shining brightly._  
  
_With the new light, he can see more: the ground is crossed by a network of streams, each flowing with brilliantly sparkling water. He can see more trees in the distance, and each seems to have its own population of birds._

_“More crows?” he asks, pointing to the nearest tree._

_Solomon laughs. “Them? Fuck no. That’s the falcons. Over_ there’s _the sparrows, and over_ there’s _the owls.”_  
  
_Finn nods in acknowledgement and stares down at the nearest branch, trying to place the odd symbol. He’s seen it before, he knows he has, but…_  
  
_A crow caws, and Finn looks up. “Huh?”_

 _“Just wanted to know if… ah, it’s nothing,” Solomon says, looking away awkwardly. Finn frowns, confused, but he shrugs and lets it slide._  
  
_“How’d you know about this place, anyway?” he asks finally._

_“The crows told me,” Solomon says, sounding thankful for the topic change._

_“How? You’re not a crow,” Finn says._

_Solomon coughs. “Uh, well, about that…”_  
  
_Finn blinks, confused. “What?”_  
  
_Solomon closes his eyes, and a pair of huge black wings burst from his back, stretching out behind him._

_Finn gasps, leans forward a little too far, and falls off the tree branch._

_The crows caw seemingly all at once, flapping around him like they’re trying to catch him, even though it’s impossible. Finn can see the ground growing larger, and he’s just panicking enough to scream when he’s grabbed roughly from behind, and suddenly he’s being pulled upwards, toward the sun._

_It’s not long before they’ve landed at the very top of the tree, where someone apparently cut the top off the trunk, leaving a huge stump above the ‘canopy’. Finn lands heavily, lies on the wood for a second and then manages to pull himself up, breathing heavily._

_“Jesus Christ,” he gasps. “Holy shit.”_

_“Are you OK?” Solomon asks, landing in front of him, looking horrified_

_“Fine,” Finn says. “Just… oh God. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”_

_“It’s not your…”_

_Finn sucks in another breath and sighs. “Fuck.”_

_“I shouldn’t have scared you like that,” Solomon says slowly._

_“You didn’t scare me,” Finn replies cautiously. “You just… startled me. I wasn’t expecting that.”_

_“You’re not… you don’t think I’m…”_

_“I think you’re amazing,” Finn tells him bluntly. “Like I always have.”_

_Solomon’s face lights up, and Finn smiles back._

_And somehow, he’s not surprised when Solomon drops down next to him and kisses him._

_It’s somewhere in the middle of that kiss that the answer hits Finn: the branches are all shaped like the symbol on things that connect to a computer through a USB port._

Huh, _he thinks. I wonder-_

 

  
  
When Finn comes to, he finds that surprisingly enough, he’s not handcuffed, tied up, or otherwise restrained. Instead, he’s lying on someone’s couch- probably Hideo’s- with an ice-pack on his head, covering his eyes.

It hasn’t banished what’s left of his headache entirely, but it’s better than nothing.  
  
He can feel the demon’s presence, but it remains silent.  
  
“You son of a bitch,” Finn mutters.  
  
_What else were you expecting?_ the demon asks.  
  
“Has it ever occurred to you that not being an arsehole does far more for you in the long run?”

 _Has it ever occurred to you that we have fought for too long to be able to compromise?_  
  
“Only because you’re a backstabbing piece of shit.”  
  
_I am a_ demon _. What else would I be?_  
  
“Something that isn’t a fucking idiot.”  
  
_I am not an idiot._  
  
“Yeah, and that’s why you pulled that stupid stunt, huh? I kicked your infernal arse when I was a _teenager_. Did you really think I’d lose to you now?”  
  
_Have you ever been locked in a cage for years on end, only able to scream through the bars? What would you do if you saw a chance to escape?_  
  
“Like I said, we could have fucking compromised,” Finn says, wondering where Hideo is.  
  
_You would never agree. I need_ blood. _And_ death. _I need to hear the screams and feel the agony._  
  
Finn’s silent for a long time, and then he sighs. “If it means I don’t have to put up with your bullshit… I think I’d agree.”  
  
_Really?_  
  
“Really. But I tell you now, you betray me, stab me in the back, go after my friends… we’re done. And I will fucking _murder_ you.”  
  
_Even if it meant your own life?_  
  
“Even if. If that’s what it takes to stop you from hurting the people I love…”  
  
The demon’s silent, and then it groans. _What the fuck did I do to deserve ending up in_ your _body? You’re so noble it makes me_ sick.  
  
“They call it Hell for a reason.”  
  
_Don’t patronise me. You don’t know anything about Hell._  
  
“Then quit bitching,” Finn snaps.  
  
Someone shifts nearby, and Finn sits up, letting the ice-pack fall.  
  
Hideo stands at the foot of the couch, watching him.  
  
Neither man speaks, and then Hideo sighs. “ _You could have told me.”_  
  
Finn blinks a few times, his eyes readjusting, and frowns. “ _You wouldn’t have believed me.”_

_“I think I would have.”_

_“Even if I did,”_ Finn says slowly, “ _I liked being normal for once. I liked being among people who didn’t fear me as an inhuman_ thing _. I liked having friends.”_

 _“I am no coward,”_ Hideo snaps. _“Do you really think I would abandon my friend?”_

 _“Then? Probably not,”_ Finn admits. “ _Now? After what I did? After what you saw? Do you_ really _want to stay friends with_ me _?”_  
  
Hideo purses his lips. “ _I heard what you said. To that_ thing _. Do you really think you two can come to an agreement?”_

 _“I think we can try,_ ” Finn says honestly.

Hideo nods. _“I will stand by you. You are my friend. It is not your fault the monster made you attack me.”_

Finn closes his eyes, a wave of relief washing over him. “ _I don’t deserve you.”_  
  
_“Probably not,”_ Hideo admits. “ _But we so rarely deserve what we get.”_  
  
Finn manages a weak chuckle. “ _True.”_  
  
Hideo opens his mouth to speak, and the phone starts to ring. He frowns, sighs and nearly rolls his eyes. “ _Please excuse me.”_  
  
He hurries off into the hallway, and Finn slumps back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
A second later, a thought comes to him. “Just tell me something.”  
  
_What is it now?_  
  
“Why do I keep having crazy dreams about my friends being supernatural creatures who I want to fuck?”  
  
_This may come as a surprise to you, but I am not actually responsible for everything in your life that you can’t explain._  
  
Finn notes the logical flaw and pounces. “But are you responsible for this one?”  
  
_No. I believe you simply have a very overactive subconscious._  
  
“What, that’s it?”  
  
_Ask someone else. I don’t have time for your bullshit._  
  
And with that, the demon falls silent.

“Well, isn’t that helpful,” Finn mutters.  
  
“ _Isn’t what helpful?”_ Hideo asks.  
  
Finn sighs. “ _Never mind.”_

 

 

Several days later, Finn’s surfing the net when the demon speaks.

_I think it’s about time, don’t you?_

“About time for what?” Finn asks, leaning away from the keyboard.

 _About time we started compromising,_ the demon says. _Unless of course you were only saying that to trick me._

“I keep my promises,” Finn says flatly.

 _Good. You_ owe _me._

“No killing,” Finn says. “And no maiming. And no attacking people who aren’t attacking us, either.”

_What’s the point of compromising if you’re going to take the fun out of it?_

“Do you want to end up in prison?”

 _Now that you mention it, I believe prison would be_ much _more fun for me._

“Uh, yeah, until they throw _me_ into solitary. Which means we’d have fuck all to do for months, and no one else to talk to. Or fight. That sound like fun to you?”

_Fine._

“So you agree? No permanent damage and no killing?”

 _Yes, fine, whatever. And_ you _agree that we’re doing what_ I _want._

“Yeah, yeah, I agree.”

_Good. When?_

“Soon.”

_It’d better be._

 

 

  
It’s the next night, close to midnight, when Finn steps out of the building and goes for a walk.  
  
It’s a quiet night, and it’s very cold. Finn zips up his jacket and shoves his hands in his pockets, ignoring the few people he passes.  
  
The building is in a pretty good part of town, but it’s not that far to the not-so-good parts of town, and from there, it’s an even shorter trip to the bad parts of town.  
  
Well. By car, that is. By foot, it’s a hell of a lot longer. But while Finn’s a good driver, he doesn’t want to take his car into the bad parts of town. He prefers it to be intact. And driveable.  
  
The street he finally turns down is… unsafe, to say the least. It’s more slum than shithole, but it’s still not good. He can feel eyes on him the moment he takes his first step, and the demon growls a warning from the back of his mind.  
  
Rather than flinch or balk, Finn takes a deep breath and clears his head. He holds his head high and lets some of the demon’s constant fury seep into his demeanour, enough that it’s obvious.

It’s something he’s learned back when he was a teenager: some fights can be prevented by simply scaring the opponent off, and that’s one thing the demon’s good for, at least.

He can feel it working, too: some of the people staring abruptly turn away from him, and he changes his stare to a glare as he reaches his destination and steps into the bar.  
  
Just like in the movies, it’s an unobjectionable place filled with objectionable people. Unlike the movies, the music doesn’t instantly stop and everyone in the place doesn’t turn around to look at whoever just walked in. Thank God. Finn gets a few stares, but mostly everyone just keeps doing what they’re doing.  
  
He doesn’t like those stares, though. They’re markedly unfriendly, and he tenses, expecting someone to attack. But that won’t do. He knows damn well he could withstand anything these fuckers have, but they don’t. So he turns his glare up and lets a little more of the demon out- not enough to be noticeable, but enough to scare them. He can hear it snarling, just waiting for the first idiot who’s dumb enough to attack them.  
  
He turns his attention to each person staring at him, outfacing them with a look that tells them in no uncertain terms who he is: someone not to be fucked with. Someone who’s dominant, who’s aggressive, who’s vicious and ready to prove it at a second’s notice.  
  
Once he’s done, he stalks his way across the room to the bar, sits down and orders a scotch, glancing around occasionally. The bar’s atmosphere has become considerably more tense since he walked in, and he knows there’s going to be a fight.  
  
He doesn’t get one immediately, though. And at least he gets to finish his drink first.  
  
The guy who first decides to try his luck is much the same as all the other guys Finn’s beaten the fuck out of in bar fights: tall, muscular, heavily tattooed and overly belligerent. And he starts off the same as all the other guys, too: a lot of posturing, a lot of glaring and a lot of territorial bullshit.  
  
Rather than rising to the bait, Finn just stands up, steps close to the guy and stares directly into his eyes.  
  
Holding eye contact for longer than a few seconds is difficult for a lot of people, and this guy’s no exception. He gets flustered almost instantly, blinking and looking away and breathing hard. Finn just stares, unblinking, standing dead still.  
  
It’s quite a good look if he doesn’t want to fight, he’s found, because people he’s used it on have told him that it’s like he’s staring into their soul, telling them very clearly that however bad they think they are, he’s worse. Whatever bad things they’ve done, he’s done worse. However tough they are, he’s tougher. And nothing they can possibly think of could compare to him.  
  
It works like a charm: the guy backs off, mumbling and looking away, but Finn holds his stare until the guy’s out the door. Then he sits back down and orders another drink.  
  
An hour later, Finn’s gone through two more drinks, but he’s barely even buzzed. Having naturally high alcohol tolerance can be useful, but most of the time it’s a real bitch.  
  
Still, at least the mood in the bar’s improved. Nobody else has tried anything, and since Finn hasn’t started any fights, everyone else has returned to their own pursuits. So Finn sits and waits and eyes everyone in the bar, patient as ever.  
  
He sees her half an hour later. White, brunette, long hair, dark eyes. He doesn’t know her, and from the way she’s looking at him, he thinks she doesn’t recognise him at all. That’s good. He can’t afford that. Too risky. But he can tell she’s interested, and she doesn’t seem to be that drunk. Bingo. 

She’s sitting in the corner of the bar, drinking alone, watching everyone else’s lives go on. He doesn’t go over to her; he doesn’t need to. Their eyes meet for a long moment, trading unspoken questions and answers, and when she gets up and takes the back way out of the bar, Finn swings off his stool and follows her.  
  
There’s not a lot of conversation. There never is, but there usually doesn’t need to be. It doesn’t take much time for the two of them to slip into the back alley and find a secluded spot, and from there it’s even simpler.

It’s not part of the agreement. Instead, it’s the closest thing Finn can get to an actual relationship: he knows he can’t risk actually dating someone, because the demon would inevitably hurt or kill them. Admittedly, fucking strangers in the back alleys of the bad parts of town isn’t exactly the safest thing he’s ever done, but it’s a lot better than the possibility of the demon using his body to murder his lover in his sleep, something he knows damn well that it’d do in a heartbeat.

But at least that won’t be happening tonight.

 

 

It’s less than an hour later, and Finn’s strolling through a maze of back streets, far away from the bar. He’s not going anywhere in particular. He’s looking for trouble, and trouble can reliably be found almost anywhere.

In fact, it finds him barely a minute later, when someone grabs his arm, pulls him around and punches him in the throat, hard enough to crush his windpipe.  
  
Anyone else would have been taken down, if not out; Finn simply looks at his attacker and glares. “Are you fucking kidding me?”  
  
He gets a brief glimpse of wide eyes in a gaunt face before someone else punches him in the kidney and a third stabs him in the side.  
  
OK, that hurt.  
  
The demon is pacing in the back of his mind, snarling and waiting for the first opportunity to get out and do some real damage, but Finn holds it back, his mind working overtime. He can’t risk the demon going too far out of excitement, that’s-  
  
Some kind of rope or cord drops over Finn’s head and tightens until he’s wheezing, his fingers clawing at the rope.  
  
…yeah, all right.  
  
He drops his mental defences and lets the demon in. 

To Finn, it’s like being on a rollercoaster with a bag over his head: he can’t see a damn thing- he knows he’s moving, hitting, attacking, but he can’t tell what. He can hear shouts and screams, but the sound is muffled. He drifts in the darkness, waiting for something, anything, and then suddenly it all comes back in a rush of sound and sight that sends him falling to his knees.

He blinks repeatedly, trying to focus, and starts taking note of his surroundings: he’s in the same alley. It’s still night. It’s still cold. He lost his jacket at some point; his shirt and pants are scuffed and muddy. He counts… eight attackers, and they’re all on the ground, making various sounds of agony.

Oh. And he’s still got the damn cord around his neck, and there’s a knife stuck in his arm.

Well. That’s annoying.

There’s a storm drain nearby, so Finn pulls the cord away from his neck and tosses it down the drain. He braces himself, grabs the knife handle and pulls hard.

He lets out an involuntary hiss of pain as his blood spurts, but the wound heals quickly, thankfully. The knife follows the cord down the drain, and Finn finds his jacket and pulls it back on, ignoring the grime and knife holes. It’s ruined, but that’s no big deal. He can get a new one.

Quickly, he checks each attacker: no one’s dead, but they’re hurt pretty badly. The demon knows exactly where to hit to cause as much pain as possible, and it did so happily.

“Honestly,” Finn says quietly as he turns around and walks away, “I’d give more of a fuck if they hadn’t tried to strangle me.”

 _Oh, I agree,_ the demon says, and he can hear its glee. _That was_ most _amusing._  
  
“Good,” Finn says. “I’m going home.”  
  
_What, just when things are getting good?_  
  
“Yes.”  
  
_For fuck’s sake._  
  
“I’m in charge and I say I’m going home,” Finn informs his infernal passenger, ducking down another alley.  
  
I _say you’re a sad motherfucker._  
  
“I don’t actually care.”  
  
_And that we should fuck people up more often._  
  
“I make a fucking living fucking people up.”  
  
_I mean_ really _fucking people up._  
  
“How about no?”  
  
_How about you turn around before that car hits you?_  
  
“What? Oh-”  
  
Finn spins around and snarls out a curse. The car in question is speeding through the alley, but the headlights are either broken or the moron didn’t turn them on, and he’s not sure if the driver can see anything- or if the driver actually cares. And there’s barely enough room for the damn car, so that rules out just moving aside.

And it’s barely five metres away.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
Right. This one calls for special measures.  
  
A second later, a hand with red claws and ink-black skin grabs the front of the car, crushing the bonnet in its grip. His eyes gleaming red and his veins shining orange, Finn swings it to the right as hard as he can, directly into the brick wall.  
  
The resulting crash isn’t by any means silent, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary, not for this part of town.  
  
Finn drops the car and takes a breath, reverting to normal. Then he walks up to the driver’s side window and leans in. “Just a suggestion? Get your fucking headlights fixed, idiot.”  
  
The driver’s either too drunk, dazed or scared to do anything more than nod, so Finn takes that as a promise and turns away.  
  
“Right. _Now_ I’m going home.”

 

  
  
  
At least he makes it back without any more incidents. The temperature has become the kind of cold that makes his hands ache, and his breath steams in the frozen air.  
  
Finn swipes his card and the doors open, revealing Hideo, leaning against a wall, staring at his phone.  
  
Finn stops, and for a long moment, the two just stare at each other.  
  
Finally, Hideo speaks. “ _Where have you been?”_  
  
Finn holds his gaze and stands his ground. “ _Compromising.”_

Hideo’s expression doesn’t change as he considers this, and when he replies, he looks grim. “ _Did it work?”_

“ _I think so,”_ Finn replies. He doesn’t know where Hideo’s going with this, but he won’t delude himself by thinking that it’s good.  
  
Hideo nods tersely. “ _Anyone dead?”_

 _“No,_ ” Finn says firmly.  
  
Hideo nods again, seemingly accepting. _“Goodnight, Finn.”_  
  
_“Goodnight, Hideo_ ,” Finn replies.  
  
With that, Hideo turns and walks away, making for the lifts.  
  
Finn watches him walk into the lift, and then he heads for the stairs.  
  
_Do you trust him?_ the demon asks softly when Finn reaches his floor.  
  
“He’s the best friend I’ve got,” Finn informs it.  
  
_I hope that’s true,_ it says quietly.  
  
“What? Why?”  
  
The demon doesn’t reply, and Finn mutters another curse and opens his front door.  
  
One short shower later and he’s checking himself over in the mirror, looking at his new wounds. He’s got a thin line around his throat which should fade soon, hopefully, and a new scar on his arm where he got stabbed, but that’s about it.  
  
Right.  
  
He searches the apartment for signs of intruders, but even though he finds nothing, he can’t shake his suspicion that something’s not quite right.  
  
_Fuck it_ , he thinks as he drifts off to sleep. _It can wait._  
  
The demon mutters an assent, and Finn finally relaxes as he falls asleep, letting the darkness curl around him.  
  
He doesn’t dream.  



End file.
